Broken Wings
by Stephanie18
Summary: A mission goes sideways, resulting in the worst night of Max's life. Keen on vengeance, she begins unraveling the mystery of the night her life was destroyed and embarks on a journey to distribute her revenge. Then the real truth surfaces.
1. Miss Stone and Mister Blythe

**Broken Wings**

**Summary:** A mission goes sideways, resulting in the worst night of Max's life. Keen on vengeance, she begins unraveling the mystery of the night her life was destroyed and embarks on a journey to distribute her revenge. When she thinks all is lost and everything done, the real truth surfaces.

**Disclaimer:** I, in fact, do not own Dark Angel. I know you must be so shocked at that. Mr. Help the Boat Is Sinking and Friends own Dark Angel. I own nothing, really - except for my imagination and some CD's.

**A/N:** This is a bit of an experiment for me. Honestly, it's not finished, but I've only got a few more chapters to write and I don't abandon my stories, so you can feel perfectly safe in reading this now. A few more things - 1. It's going to get darker. 2. Go listen to the song "Winter" by Bayside.

**Timeline:** Season one. Somewhere.

**Chapter One** - _Miss Stone and Mister Blythe_

Sylvia Stone was the picture of professionalism as she rode the elevator to the nineteenth floor. An elegant cream business covered every curve and a pair of sleek glasses subdued the fire in her cinnamon eyes, while her hair was swept into the most sensible of ponytails with only a few stray curls betraying her appearance. Clutched firmly in her right hand was a polished black briefcase that seemed very ordinary, but was in fact, holding every important piece of her life.

There was one trouble with her life, however: it was completely fabricated.

Sylvia Stone was no one. Sylvia Stone was a name picked from the air and screened onto fake ID cards. Sylvia Stone was a complete work of fiction, fashioned from the imagination of a very clever man.

Sylvia Stone was Max Guevara.

She smoothed a wrinkle in her jacket with her free left hand then let it fall to her side. She tried to embody Sylvia Stone and be the confident woman comfortable in her own skin and a business suit, but truthfully, she was itching to throw on a pair of jeans and head to Crash.

She looked to her left and examined David Blythe, her partner in Cranton Industries and crime.

David Blythe was Sylvia Stone's perfect match. His perfectly gelled hair and clean shave accented his immaculate suit and silk tie. At his side sat a mahogany briefcase that held all the details of his life.

There was just one problem. David Blythe was also a work of fiction.

David Blythe was Logan Cale.

Max's eyes flitted to the elevator door then back to Logan.

"So, you're sure this is all going to work out?" she asked. She couldn't help a small grin.

"Positive," Logan replied and looked up at her.

Logan had researched every aspect and inch of the Maconick Chemical Corporation and every bit of it was corrupt. Company president Thomas Maconick inherited the industry-leading business from his father and proceeded to use the company as a front. Thomas didn't care who he dealt with as long as they paid. He had connections ranging from overseas billionaires to the mob to small-operation gangs all over the city. The company would have been untouchable… except from the inside.

With the help of an informant and company mole, Logan had gained enough inside information that he could use to bring the company down. He made his cover company, Cranton Industries, look real enough. If anyone dug, they would find all sorts of information on the company - except for the fact that it was only six weeks old and imaginary.

When Max had agreed to infiltrate the company with him, everything was cemented. Now "Sylvia Stone" and "David Blythe" were regular visitors to the Maconick Chemical Corporation and were about to seal a very important deal.

A delicate _ding_ announced the elevator's arrival at the nineteenth floor.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a plush and perfectly pristine white carpet and a large glass slab with _Maconick Chemicals_ elegantly etched on it.

Logan placed his briefcase on his lap then followed Max out of the elevator.

They took a familiar path down a long, stark hallway that led to a large circular room with lots of windows and a grand L-shaped oak desk. Behind the desk, sitting behind a plague marked "Dorothy" was a primly dressed woman in her late twenties with a smile that would paralyze elephants.

"Miss Stone, Mr. Blythe," the woman said, her smile never fading. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hello, Dorothy," Max said, offering a glittering smile of her own. "We have an appointment with Mr. Maconick."

"Of course," Dorothy said. She picked up a telephone and punched in a few numbers. She chirped into the receiver, "Mr. Maconick, Miss Stone and Mr. Blythe from Cranton Industries are here to see you."

After a moment she hung up the phone and pointed to a door at the end of the room. "Mr. Maconick is ready to see you."

"Thank you," Logan said.

They made their way to the door. Just as they reached it, it swung open to reveal yet another stylishly dressed person. Thomas Maconick, with his hundred-dollar haircut, casual-yet-perfectly-business black button-down shirt, black vintage Armani slacks, and perfectly polished shoes, oozed debonair charm. His smile was flawless, warm, and inviting. If you weren't aware that he was selling arms to thugs, cheating cancer victims, and laundering money for the mob, you would have thought he was a great guy.

"Wonderful to see you both again," Thomas said and waved them into the room.

"Lovely to be here," Max said and offered a winning smile. She and Logan entered the office.

Thomas Maconick's office was just as charming as he was. An ornate pine desk with a black veneer was the centerpiece, fit snugly between two soon-to-be-towering palm plants. Two plush leather chairs were set in front of the desk for the use of visitors and clients, while another more stately leather chair was behind the desk, reserved for Thomas and Thomas alone. The only things on the desk were a computer and a covered tray.

"Please," Thomas said and gestured to the chairs.

Max sat in the chair on the right and kept close to the edge. She wasn't feeling the whole situation, no matter how many times Logan assured her everything would go their way.

Logan transferred from the wheelchair to the other chair and sat back. He had to admit he was a little nervous, but felt he was prepared for anything.

Thomas took his seat behind the desk and smiled at them. "This is exciting, isn't it? The acquisition of Cranton Industries is something I've been looking forward to since the very moment you stepped into my office for the very first time."

"Well, Sylvia and myself have also been looking forward to this," Logan said. "This is a great opportunity for us all."

"I look forward to the future," Max added.

"Let's get down to business then, shall we?" Thomas said. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a thick contract. He pushed the contract and a pen to the edge of the desk. "If you'll both sign on the dotted line, we can celebrate."

Max signed the paper first then handed it to Logan. After they had both written down their aliases, Max set the contract back on the desk.

"Excellent," Thomas said and smiled. He pulled the cover off the tray that sat on the desk, revealing a bottle of champagne on ice and three glasses. "I thought this would be appropriate for the moment."

"I think we all deserve it," Logan said and winked.

Thomas chuckled and opened the bottle of champagne. He poured them each a glass then handed one to Max and Logan. "Yes, yes, we're all in a very important business together now. To success!"

The _clink_ of glasses filled the air for a moment then silence as they each drank.

"If you don't mind," Thomas said, "now that everything's official and we're all equals here, I have just a few questions and concerns I'd like to air out."

"Please, go ahead," Logan said. He finished his glass of champagne and placed the glass back on the tray.

"They are only trivial matters, I assure you," Thomas said and placed his half-finished glass of champagne on the tray. "I was just wondering, for instance, what _exactly_ does Cranton Industries do?"

Max swallowed her mouthful of champagne quickly. "We manufacture microchips used in -"

"Data entry equipment and services to furnish blah blah, I know," Thomas interrupted. "You see, I thought that was all rather good and quite dull, hence why I wanted to snatch up the little podunk company. I need some legitimate businesses on the files to make the operation run smoothly, but… Cranton Industries isn't a legitimate business. In fact, it's not even a business at all."

Max set her champagne glass down and cleared her throat. The only thought that ran through her head was a simple expletive. "Mr. Maconick, you are mistaken. Cranton Industries has been in business since -"

"Six weeks ago," Thomas said. "You see, I have some very top notch people working for me. I know all about Cranton Industries - about how some documents were forged and smudged to make the company look older than it is, to make it seem as if real revenue was generated and transferred, to make it blatantly clear that Cranton Industries was a real company with real people running it. In fact, it is a very false company."

Logan's jaw clenched.

"I was very curious about all of this, naturally," Thomas continued. "After all, who, I wondered, had figured me out? Who was the mastermind behind all of this? I'll admit I have not found that piece of the puzzle, but from I could put together, I knew I couldn't let the two of you leave my office today."

"Try and stop us," Max growled.

Thomas waved her comment off. "I'm not afraid of any threats you may make, Miss Stone - if that is even your name, which I sincerely doubt. You see, I'm not afraid of anyone or anything. I am above the world. Nothing can stop me from doing just what I like."

"That's just because you haven't dealt with me yet," Max said and stood.

"Yes, you are very intimidating," Thomas said dryly. "I will admit that you two are the closest I've ever come to being a bit threatened. You're the first ones to get this close to really infiltrating me, to almost bringing me down, but like the others you have failed. I would sit down, Miss Stone, before you stumble due to the miracle chemical that is currently coursing through your veins as we speak."

"What?" Max snapped.

"I suppose I forgot to mention that your glasses were laced with sodium declorotoxin," Thomas said. "You see, it's a very nasty chemical that some of my brilliant scientists have created. Any moment now you should experience shortness of breath and loss of muscle control then you'll slip into peaceful unconsciousness. Normally the toxin would just wear off and you'd awaken hours later a little worse for the wear but, ultimately, alive, but in your case, you won't be waking."

Max felt suddenly dizzy. She dropped into her chair. She looked over to Logan and saw his head drop to his chest. She wanted to cry out, but held her words in. She was getting dizzier. The office was beginning to blur.

Thomas got up from his chair and walked over to Max. "You are of particular interest to me, Miss Stone. Do you know why?"

"I'm pretty," Max bit.

Thomas chuckled. He pulled down the back of Max's shirt and brushed her hair back from her neck. He bent down to whisper in her ear, "You've got a marvelous tattoo."

Max's eyes rolled into the back of her head.


	2. Sea Legs

**A/N:** Family Guy reference in this chapter. If you can find it, well, you get nothing but a virtual high five.

**Chapter Two** - _Sea Legs_

Max awoke several hours later in a daze. She put a hand to her head and sat up to examine her surroundings. She wasn't sure if the room rocking was because she was on a boat or because of the drug, but she guessed boat. The room she was in was completely bare, but the floor was polished and, knowing Thomas, probably cost fourteen million dollars.

She got to her feet and leaned against the wall. The fog that surrounded her thoughts was starting to lift, but she didn't feel any better.

She searched her pockets for anything that could possibly be of use, but there was nothing. She looked around the bare room again.

"Logan," she croaked. Her voice was raucous and low, barely above a whisper. She needed water. She needed a lot of things.

She went to the door and tried to open it. To her amazement, it opened without a problem.

"Not good," she whispered then opened the door all of the way.

She looked around then stepped out into the hall. The hall was the exact opposite of the room she had been in. The floor was covered in deep red carpeting and picture frames lined the walls.

There was a door in front of her and she could hear a voice. She braced herself then pushed the door open.

All doubts of her not being on a boat were completely erased. Before her was a polished deck and a perfect view of lapping waves.

"Have a pleasant nap?"

Max turned at the sound of the voice. To her left stood Thomas, smiling widely and looking the perfect picture of comfort all bundled up in a jet-black pea coat.

"Where's," Max started, then stopped suddenly.

"David?" Thomas supplied and grinned. "I assume we're still laboring under the Cranton Industries delusion, _Miss Stone_."

"Where is he?" Max demanded, straining her voice even further.

Thomas chuckled. "No need to worry about him. He'll be just fine where he is."

"Where is he?" Max snarled.

"If I may be cliché for a moment," Thomas said, "he is… sleeping with the fishes."

Something within Max snapped. Her vision was suddenly clouded with red and she pounced on Thomas, intent on ripping him apart and tossing the parts overboard.

To her shock, he pushed her to the floor and laughed.

"You're mistaking me for someone who does not know about your… particular attributes," he said and kicked her side. "You see, my father was once a military man. He served many years with a genius man who stuck with the military. Later, when my father was at the pinnacle of his success, the genius man approached him, hoping my father could supply him with some chemicals for a very important project he was working on."

Thomas put his hands in his pockets. "My father agreed and was supplied with information, lots of information, which he later passed on to me. It seemed my father's old army buddy was looking to get into the gene splicing and modification game and he had money behind him, something my father never argued with. Long story short, I know all about you and soon your daddy will be here to pick you up."

Max pulled herself to her feet. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Lydecker always referred to you as _his kids_," Thomas said and grinned. "I've made it possible for him to take you without incident, you see, and he was very grateful for that. Maconick Chemicals brews up a little something called DT-40. In small doses it's a very useful muscle relaxer, but in large doses, such as the one I have given you, it slowly dehydrates the muscles to make them almost virtually useless. I suspect that you are only able to stand because of your - shall we say - breeding. I'll have to give Mr. Lydecker a kudos on that when he arrives."

Max let out a bitter, mirthless laugh. "You actually think he's going to let you live? You think he'll meet you here and you'll hand me over then get a fat check? You really don't know who you're dealing with, kid. He'll empty a clip in your skull and sink this little rowboat of yours and he'll make sure nobody asks any questions."

"What next, hmm?" Thomas said. "Are you going to suggest I let you free and make a hasty get-away? I should just let you go, is that it?"

Max shrugged. "It's always an option."

Thomas laughed. He opened his mouth to say something but his cellphone rang. He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it. After a very short conversation, he hung up.

"You'll be happy to know Mr. Lydecker's ETA is twenty minutes," he said.

"And you'll be happy to know I don't have enough time to kill you," Max said and narrowed her eyes. "But I'll be back for you, that's a promise."

She turned around and took off running, full speed. When she reached the railing, she used all of her energy to leap over. As she flew through the air, she positioned herself in a swan dive and hit the water with barely a splash.

The freezing water was quite a shock to her body. She was frozen underwater for a moment, but as her body began to adjust to the temperature, she became more relaxed. She felt the odd sensation to fall asleep, but fought it and kicked her way to the surface. She couldn't spot Thomas on the deck of the yacht and guessed it was because he was about to come after her. She took an enormous breath then dove underwater and began swimming.

**A/N:** Another cliffhanger. Sorry. I can't stop myself from doing it.


	3. Soon

**Chapter Three** - _Soon_

Max's eyes fluttered open and she groaned. Every inch of her was sore. She had swum as far away from the yacht as she could, but could barely remember pushing through the waves. The last thing she remembered was pushing away a bit of driftwood. Her memory was blank after that.

Strange crackling brought her from the fog of her thoughts. She turned slowly at the sound and found herself facing a fireplace.

There weren't fireplaces on the beach.

She sat up slowly, careful not to aggravate her already pained muscles, and looked around.

She was in a comfortably furnished cabin, which smelled ever so slightly of pine and smoke. She was on the floor, lying on top of a luxurious white carpet and draped with blankets. Two comfortable-looking crimson armchairs and a matching sofa were positioned in the middle of the room and an old bookcase was tucked into the corner of the room.

She deduced from her soaking wet clothes and hair that she hadn't been in front of the fire long. The only other thing she was sure of was that she was sick of waking up in strange places.

A gentle humming came from another room and her jaw clenched. A few moments later, a jovial-looking old man waltzed into the room carrying a cup of steaming liquid.

He paused when he saw Max. "Oh, you're awake."

"Who are you?" Max asked. Her voice was still harsh.

The old man sat on the couch and held the cup out to Max. When she didn't take it, he set it on the floor. He smiled. "I'm James."

"Right," Max said slowly. "Care to elaborate?"

"My name is James Earl Madison, I was born in the ancient year of 1950 in upstate New York, but moved to Maine when I was twenty-five and started up a little fishing business. After some success, I relocated to Seattle and -"

"Funny," Max said dryly. "If you don't mind, I'm a little tense, seeing as how I have no idea how I got here."

James nodded. "Well, I was out on my boat and saw something floating in the water. That was you, Miss…"

"Stone," Max lied. "Sylvia Stone."

"Well, Miss Stone," James continued, "I fished you out of the water as fast as I could and I'll admit I was surprised to see you were breathing. Just barely, but breathing all the same. I took you back here to my cabin, but maybe you would have preferred it if I left you on the beach."

"No," Max sighed.

"If you don't mind me asking," he said, "how did you end up in the water anyway?"

"Went overboard on a friend's yacht," Max said and shrugged. "Everyone else was in the cabin, they probably didn't even notice I fell."

"Would you like to call them and let them know you're all right?" James offered.

"No phone," Max said simply.

James picked up the cup and again handed it to Max. This time she accepted it. He sat back on the couch and crossed his arms. "Must be an old boat not to have a phone."

Max wrapped her frozen fingers around the cup and enjoyed the warmth. "My friend wanted to be able to get away from it all, you know? So, where exactly are we?"

"A little island you won't find on any map," James told her. "I bought it when I was a younger, stupider man but can't bring myself to sell this little rock. It's a little ways from Seattle. Is that where you're from?"

Max nodded and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

"I could take you back in a little while," he said. "I'm going in to visit my daughter today. I think I've got some old clothes of hers here - they should fit you. I'll go get you something so you won't have to sit around in those wet clothes."

"Sounds good," Max said. She wanted to be rid of the cream business suit. It reeked of bad memories.

James smiled then got up from the couch and went into another room.

Max wrapped the blankets around herself and stared into the fire. She knew she should have been more wary of James, but she was just too tired. All she could think about was getting back to Seattle and resting up before going out to avenge Logan's death. There was no way she would let Thomas get away with anything. She was determined to first bring down Maconick Chemical Corporation then she would personally deliver justice to Thomas.

James came back into the room carrying a small pile of clothes. "They're a few years old, but I think they should fit you. The bathroom's right through there."

Max got up from her comfortable spot in front of the fire and took the clothes from James. She went into the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her.

She set the clothes down on the sink and examined herself in the mirror.

"You look like hell," she whispered to her reflection.

Her face was smudged and her hair was a horrible mess; it was ratty and littered with bits of leaves and twigs. She did the best she could with the washcloth and comb that were resting near the sink, but she was nowhere near happy. She just wanted her strength back. She just wanted Thomas Maconick dead.

She quickly changed into the sweater and jeans James had supplied then pulled her hair up with an elastic band she found in the medicine cabinet.

A knock came on the door, then James's voice. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Soon," Max quietly promised her reflection.


	4. A Shaky Start

**Chapter Four** - _A Shaky Start_

Max pushed open the door to the apartment then leaned against the doorframe to keep from falling over. Whatever Thomas had given her was certainly doing its job. A thick haze still filled her thoughts and she was weaker than she'd ever been. She wasn't used to feeling so powerless.

As she pushed away from the doorframe she told herself she wouldn't be powerless for long. When she was back to normal, she'd get the revenge she wanted. A nagging voice at the back of her mind kept hissing that Logan wouldn't want her to put herself in danger - instead go to Canada where she would be safe. But all of her knew she couldn't do that.

She collapsed onto the couch, unable to make it to her bedroom.

It was all like a dream. Only hours ago she was focusing on the meal Logan had promised to prepare when they returned from the perfectly routine mission of bringing down a horribly corrupt multi-million dollar business. The farthest thought from her mind was that they had been made or that everything was going to end in death. Her fists clenched in instinct. It wasn't going to end with Logan's death. It would end with Thomas's neck held firmly in her genetically engineered hands and she would look him in the eye as she snapped the neck of the man who killed the only man she could trust.

She'd heard about people being driven mad by grief. She was beyond that. Every moment it felt as if there was an army of bloodied and screaming soldiers rising through her body, surging from the pit of her stomach and tearing through her eyes to freedom. She was beyond all reasonable emotion. Reasonable emotion was for people who got dumped by their Valentine or for people who found twenty dollars in the pocket of a winter coat. The only emotion she could feel was the emotion of a person who has had everything torn from their arms and battered in front of them. Every moment felt like a pistol at the back of her skull.

Tortured, cloudy thoughts wafted through her mind. She could barely grasp one long enough to understand it. She shook her head and hoped the motion would clear her overworked and feverish mind. No such luck.

She pulled herself to her feet, now intent on getting the glass of water she'd been wanting all day. She made it halfway across the room when a dizzy spell hit her. She tried to reach for the counter to steady herself, but couldn't make it. She passed out, hitting her head on the counter on the way down.

She was shaking. She opened her eyes and hoped she wasn't having a seizure. She didn't know (or care to know) how the chemical and a seizure would mix. When she finally realized what was going on, she longed to be on the apartment floor having a grand mal.

"No hospitals," she croaked. Her voice was harsher than before.

She tried to sit up, but the paramedic pushing her gurney pushed her back down gently. She didn't have the energy to get back up. She just wanted to go to sleep.

"Sam Carr, I need to see Sam…" she forced out as loudly as she could. After she said it, she passed out again.

All she could hear was buzzing, whirring, and beeping. She groaned and opened her eyes.

She was in a hospital. It looked like every other hospital she had ever been thrust into against her will, but with one exception: when she woke, Logan was not by her side.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks but she could barely feel them. She could barely feel anything anymore. She began to wonder what the point of getting out of the hospital or the country was. None of it mattered anymore. Logan was dead. What did it matter if Manticore had her now? They wouldn't have a soldier, they'd have a useless shell - another 'nomaly to hide in the basement.

"How are you feeling?"

Max looked and saw Sam Carr in the doorway. She hadn't even heard him. She just shrugged in response to his question.

"I've never known you to be this quiet," Sam said and entered the room. He checked Max's vitals then wrote something on a chart. "Really, how are you feeling?"

She thought of telling him the truth - dead inside - but of course she didn't. She forced out a, "Bad."

"You took a nasty fall," Sam told her. "My best guess is that you took a seizure. You hit your head. It was lucky your friend found you when she did."

"Lucky," she muttered. She was anything but lucky.

"The most permanent damage you'll have is a bit of blood on your carpet," Sam said and grinned.

Somehow, she thought, Sam was the only one who could have gotten away with saying that. She figured it must have been his soothing 'Everything's fine now' voice - or maybe it was still the drug.

"You don't have to worry," he said. "It'll be as if you were never here. No one ever saw you. Do you think you want to stay overnight or -"

"No," she said. "I need to go home."

"All right, I'll let your friend in," Sam said. He smiled again and walked to the door. Before walking off down the hall, he said, "Oh, and tell Logan I said hello, okay?"

Max covered her mouth with her hand so her sobs wouldn't escape. More tears rolled down her cheeks but all she could feel was her heart turning to stone.

Kendra walked into the room moments later, looking as if she had been a total wreck in the waiting room.

"Max!" she said and rushed to the bedside. "I'm so glad you're okay. When I got to the apartment I saw you and - and, oh my God. I just… thank God we were supposed to have lunch, thank God you're okay."

"I'm fine," Max said calmly. It was a lie. No part of her was anywhere near fine. "I just want to go."

"All right, I borrowed my mom's car," Kendra said. "I can take you back to the apartment."

Max was quiet for a moment. "That's not where I want to go."


	5. Take This Broken Heart & Make It Right

**A/N:** The chapter title isn't my invention. It's a Matchbook Romance lyric. I was listening to them while I was editing the chapter. Their new song "Monsters" rocks, by the way. Okay, anyway, onto the story! It gets emotionally darker here for Max.

**Chapter Five** - _Take This Broken Heart & Make It Right_

Max didn't bother to explain to Kendra how she knew how to pick a lock. She just did then pushed the door to the apartment open. She stopped in the doorway and strained to hear the familiar _click clack_ of a keyboard, but nothing came. It was all silent. Nothing made a noise. The refrigerator didn't even whir. It was as if everything knew what had happened and was mourning.

She walked into the apartment and Kendra followed. She stopped in the kitchen and wanted to collapse to the floor - not because she was dizzy or tired but because she just wanted to cry. She wanted to drown the penthouse in tears and pound on the smooth floor until it cracked under her fists.

The soldiers began tearing through her body once again, leaving no bit of her un-trampled and un-desecrated. She felt like a phantom had crept up on her and pulled every organ, every drop of blood from her body and exhibited them for the world to see.

She took a deep, shaky breath and clenched her fists. She would kill Thomas Maconick.

She left the kitchen and went to the computer room. She just had to be sure. When she saw that he was not there, she leaned against the doorframe. Sam had called her lucky. She grimaced.

"You okay?" Kendra asked. She put a hand on Max's shoulder. "Should I call the doctor?"

Max shook her head but said nothing.

She walked to every room in the penthouse and examined each one closely. She ended at the living room and went to look out the window. She knew Kendra had no idea what was going on, but she couldn't explain. How did one explain that every part of them was bleeding and screaming in pain and hoping for death?

She crossed her arms and stared out the window until she grew too weak to stand. She sat on the couch and looked up at Kendra.

"You can go home," she said quietly. She still hadn't had her water. "I'm okay."

Kendra looked apprehensive. "Well… okay. Is there anything I can get you?"

Max turned on the couch so that she could again look out the window. She was quiet for a few minutes as she watched the normal people walk calmly below her. She replied simply, "Water."

Hours after Kendra left, Max awoke. She was still lying on the couch, but didn't remember falling asleep. She sat up and stretched and was relieved at how good she finally felt. She grabbed the empty glass in front of her then got off the couch and went to the kitchen.

Everything was still too quiet. She listened carefully again, hoping that she would hear exactly what she wanted to. No sound came.

She turned on the faucet and let it run. After a few moments she filled the glass and chugged the water down. She set the glass in the sink but let the water run. She needed the noise. The quiet seemed to only exist to drive her more insane.

Finally she turned off the water and reached up to touch the small gash on her head. It was already starting to heal. She sighed. She half-wished she had died.

She left the kitchen and went to the computer room. Gingerly, she sat in the computer chair then closed her eyes. The computer hummed gently and if her brain didn't resemble a live wire quite so much, she would have found it relaxing. She told herself it was all a dream. She would open her eyes and Logan would come through the front door, apologizing for being late but offering a delicious meal as an apology. She would open her eyes and Logan would be before her, challenging her to a game of chess which he knew he could never win. She would open her eyes and Logan would be there, offering to walk with her in the park. She would open her eyes and _Logan would be there_. She would open her eyes and her life wouldn't be completely destroyed.

She opened her eyes and the world was still broken.

She looked to the phone and thought of calling Original Cindy. She decided against it, knowing that OC would want to get all _rational_ with her. She didn't want to be rational. She wanted to be a mess - a mess that would turn into Thomas Maconick's personal representation of Hell.

Max stood up very calmly and looked around the room. She reached for the phone and tore it from the wall with so much force the wires in the wall were torn out as well. She threw the phone at the computer screen. The screen busted on impact and gave a few spurts of sparks. She grabbed the computer screen and launched it across the room. It collided with the wall and broke in half. She slammed her fists down on the desk so hard one of the back legs buckled and everything on the surface tumbled to the floor.

She fell to her knees and screamed. She sat among the broken trinkets and slammed her fist on the floor. She hit the back of a picture frame and screamed again. She picked the frame up and turned it around to look at the picture.

It was a picture of Logan. The photo was obviously a few years old. Surrounded by friends, he was dressed to the nines and smiling widely.

With all her force, she threw the picture across the room. It smashed against the wall and fell to the floor with a thud.

"You left me!" she screamed through tears. "You were never supposed to leave me!"

She lay on the floor, curled into the fetal position, and sobbed. The only comprehensible thought that ran through her mind was the fact that, normally, Logan would be there, holding her and telling her it was all going to be okay. But it wasn't normal anymore. The sane part of her seemed to break away from the rest of her. It became a jagged jigsaw piece floating away and she couldn't reach it. The rest of the puzzle pieces were painted black with grief and red with rage to create a final picture of madness.

When she could cry no longer, she relaxed her muscles and rolled onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, hoping some answer would come from the God she had heard so much about. No mystical guidance came to her aid, so she made up her mind.

She pulled herself up from the floor and clenched her jaw.

She would begin.


	6. New Skin

**Chapter Six** - _New Skin_

She pushed open the bedroom door and stepped in as if she was walking into a church. The bedroom was just as it always was - neat and it smelled of Logan. The only piece of clutter was a black sweater hanging off the edge of the bed. She approached it cautiously as if it would spring to life and smother her. Part of her wouldn't mind.

She sunk to the floor and reached out for the sweater. She touched the sleeve then ran her hand over the fabric before pulling the garment into her lap. She cradled it gently in her arms as if it were a small child. It seemed so right, but so terribly wrong at the same time. She could feel the soldier within her stirring. She pulled off the sweater James had given her and slipped on Logan's sweater. It was too big, but somehow felt exactly right.

Suddenly filled with new vigor, she got to her feet and set on her task. She went to the top drawer in Logan's dresser - the one that had somehow become hers. Inside it were a few pairs of clothes and the outfit she had been wearing before she and Logan had gone to Thomas's office - her catsuit. She laid the suit on the bed then frowned. She stared down at the outfit and felt her Manticore training begin to spark in the pit of her stomach. She knew she could very well lose herself entirely after it was all over, but she was too exhausted to care.

She left the bedroom and returned to the destroyed computer room.

"You really screwed yourself on this one," she said quietly and stepped into the room.

Bits of computer pieces and glass crunched under her feet as she walked. She went to the large metal shelf in the corner of the room and inspected the contents. If she knew Logan at all, she knew there was a spare computer screen. She found it tucked away in a box on the bottom shelf. She unpacked it and connected it to the computer. Once the computer was up and running again, she searched Logan's files for the information she wanted.

Once she had memorized all she needed, she thought about deleting the informant net. Logan's instructions were to delete it, but… she couldn't. It was his life's work, hell, _his life_. She exited the files and left them safe and sound on the hard drive.

Now that she had the information and supplies she needed, she returned to the bedroom and stared down at the catsuit. The spark in the pit of her stomach was growing and was setting the rest of her ablaze. She changed slowly, methodically, almost sacredly into the catsuit. She zippered the vest over Logan's sweater and felt as if her life was playing in slow motion. She watched as the last dim rays of sunlight bowed gracefully out, allowing a dark and cloudy night to sweep over the rain drenched city.

A new fire burned within her, turning any last remnants of her sanity and compassion into a fine gray ash. She slid on her gloves then slipped on her own shoes and examined her reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. Her body looked as it always had, but her eyes were different. They were without life, without spark, without passion - they looked just as they had when she was in Manticore. Her eyes were as empty as she felt inside. They didn't even betray the rage burning deep within her.

She would destroy Thomas Maconick.

She left the apartment and headed for the parking garage. Her precious bike was parked next to an empty parking spot. The car that should have been parked next to her bike was clear across the city in the parking lot of the building where the worst day of her life had begun.

She slid onto the bike and sat for a moment before starting it. She felt satisfied as the machine rumbled smoothly underneath, but she wasn't happy. She revved the engine then flew out of the parking garage at eighty miles an hour.

Due to traffic and checkpoints, it took her longer than she would have liked to reach the Maconick Chemical Corporation building. She hid her bike behind a dumpster in the back of the building then examined her options.

She chose a window on the second floor as her entrance point. She climbed the fire escape and pried the window open without much trouble then slipped in. The building was dark and quiet. According to a clock on the wall, quitting time was three hours ago.

As she roamed the halls and peered into the dark, empty offices, she wondered if any of the people who inhabited the spaces knew what kind of sick dealings Thomas was involved in. She guessed some of them did and she felt like they should die right along side him, but she couldn't bring herself to care about them. She only had eyes for Thomas.

She eventually made it to the floor where Thomas's office was located. She stopped in the doorway and looked around. A room at the end of the hall had its door closed, but a light shone from the crack under the door. Voices and chuckles came from inside the room.

_"Who you going for on the game?"_

She could hear the sound of a spoon hitting the edge of a coffee cup.

A second voice answered the first. _"Ah, I dunno. I didn't look over the stats or anything. Hey, did you check the first floor?"_

_"What for?"_ the first voice said.

The two men laughed and Max walked past the room, confident that she could dispatch the two men (she assumed security guards) if she had to. She slipped into Thomas's office and closed the door quietly behind her.

The very sight of the room made the soldiers held deep within her grumble and stomp around. She could feel them moving again, ready to burst out of her and destroy her.

Instead of trashing the room like she wanted, she went to sit in front of the computer. She started it up and wasn't surprised to find everything password protected. She pulled a floppy disc from her vest and kissed it before inserting it into the drive. It was a program of Logan's creation and she was glad she had the foresight to grab it before she left the penthouse. With a simple keyboard command, the program began running. It automatically began trying combinations of passwords and within ten minutes had cracked the code. The program inserted the correct password, allowing Max access to Thomas's desktop.

Throughout their phony business meetings, Max had taken note of the activities Thomas had performed on the computer. From what she gathered, he controlled everything through the machine. Honestly, she didn't blame him. After all, would he really want just anyone from the company accessing his business dealings?

She typed another command on the keyboard and a small box popped up on the screen.

_ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO ERASE ALL FILES?_

Max sneered and clicked 'Yes.'

The program then went to work destroying everything housed in the computer.

After it had finished, Max removed the disc and placed it back in her vest. Feeling not quite satisfied, she bent down to the computer's tower and removed the cover. She contemplated on just what to do, then decided to rip every bit and piece from the machine then smashed them on the floor. In some cases it may not have helped any, but it sure felt good.

The Maconick Chemical Corporation empire was almost crumbled.

There was only one other place where there might be back-up files.

**A/N:** I've completed writing the story, so never fear - you'll get the whole thing soon. :)


	7. Remember Me

**A/N:** If you thought Max was scary before…

_I wanna hurt you,  
But I just can't cut you fast enough._  
-- Action Action

**Chapter Seven** - _Remember Me_

William Maconick had built a beautiful mansion on the outskirts of the city. As he explained to his other mansion-living, BMW-owning friends while on the golf course at the country club, he needed somewhere away from "the scum." William's only crime had been being a stuck up asshole that cared more about his dogs than the city's homeless. When he had died, Thomas had spent no time selling his old man's belongings and moving his own things into the mansion. Thomas was only different from his father in that he was an actual criminal.

Max parked her bike across the street and sat on the house for half an hour. Only one guard was present, he stood by the front door.

She got off the bike and walked down the street, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She knew she failed miserably at that, but couldn't find it within herself to care. She walked to the front gate and wrapped her gloved hands around the thick, iron bars.

"Hey!" she called out. When she saw she had the guard's attention, she continued, "Can ya give a girl some directions?"

The guard strolled over to Max. He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, trying to appear impressive.

"You lost, sweetheart?" the slightly overweight man asked.

"Yeah," she answered. She calculated the distance between them. "I'm looking for number 74, you know where that is?"

"Aw, hell, that's clear across the development," he replied. "You'll have to turn around and -"

"I'm sorry, I don't hear so well," Max said sweetly. "Can you maybe move a little closer?"

The guard nodded and took a few steps forward. "You get to the end of the street and go lef -"

Max's hand shot out like a frog's tongue. She captured the guard's throat and squeezed. Her jaw clenched and something within her - her solider instinct - switched on instantly. She tightened her grip on the man's throat until his eyes rolled in the back of his head. She released him and he crumpled to the ground. She didn't know if she had killed him, but really she didn't care. After a quick look around, she jumped the gate and landed on the soft grass.

She moved cautiously along the property's wall until she reached the side of the house. She went to the first window she saw and peeked through. True to the plans included in Logan's files, the room appeared to be Thomas's home office. There was a computer in the corner of the room, along with fax machines, copiers, a paper shredder, and a phone.

Max pushed the window open and slipped through. The room was dark, but she made her way just fine. She sat down in front of the computer and repeated the processes with the disc.

As the program's process for erasing the files reached 80, the lights in the room switched on.

Max gasped and looked up from the screen.

The door to the room opened and Thomas stepped in.

"Amazing," he said, "how you're never grateful for a light switch being on the outside of the room, until a very peculiar event happens."

He held a glass of brandy in one hand and with the other hand held a Glock loosely at his side. He took a sip of the brandy then waved the gun around.

"Now, you don't look like the maid," he said and trained the gun on Max. "So I'm just wondering what you're doing here and what you're having a look at there."

Max glanced at the screen. 90 completed. She held her hands up and slowly walked around the desk.

"I was looking for clues," Max said. "I want to know what happened to David."

Thomas eyed her closely. He sneered. "You think I'd put that in my files, you silly bitch?"

Max shrugged and took a few cautious steps forward. She wanted to kill him right then, but she had to wait.

"I guess you know more about that than I do, huh?" she said. "I suppose you cover up all your murders real nice."

Thomas laughed. "I do, in fact. It's why no one's been able to topple me. I have to say, though, you were close. It's too bad you're going to end up like the rest of them, buried and forgotten."

The computer made a sudden, loud _ding!_ and Max grinned wickedly.

"What was that?" Thomas frowned.

"All your files," Max replied. "I erased them all. I erased the ones at the office too. So, that would leave you with… nothing, correct?"

"God damn it!" Thomas screamed. He threw his half-finished glass of brandy against the wall as hard as he could then cocked the gun and pointed it at Max. "I'll see you in hell."

Before he could pull the trigger, Max ducked and dove at him. She tackled him to the floor and knocked the gun out of his hand. It slid across the polished hardwood floor and came to a stop in the hall.

Max punched Thomas once then got to her feet.

"You will see me in hell," she growled.

She grabbed him by the shirt and threw him at the doorway. The back of his head and his legs hit the sides of the doorway and his upper body landed in the hallway. He pushed himself up and tried to go for the gun, but Max kicked him in the side.

Thomas spilled out into the hall and landed on his back. His world was spinning. All he was sure of was that he needed the gun. Before he could try to grab it again, Max was standing over him. She was all he could see.

Max grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet. She punched him twice in the face. The second blow broke his nose and blood spattered all over his face and the front of his shirt. She let go of him then kicked him square in the chest. He flew back into the wall and a painting came loose and fell on him.

Max kicked the painting off him, thereby kicking him in the face. She again picked him up by the hair. He swung at her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her, with his back facing her. She pulled his right arm behind his back and snapped the bone. He cried out in agony and tried to sink to the floor, but she held him up by his broken arm. She threw him into a table and he fell to the ground, taking the table and a very expensive-looking vase with him.

He tried to crawl into the next room, but she grabbed his legs and pulled him back to her. She bent his leg at the knee then kicked into it, shattering the bone. He screamed in agony again.

She kicked him over and growled in his face, "I don't just want you to die. I want you to suffer."

She punched him in the face again, causing more blood to pour from his already gushing and mangled nose.

She then kneeled down next to him. He could barely lift his head or breathe, but his eyes were full of fear. She lifted his battered body and supported it on one knee.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" she hissed.

Thomas could only whimper.

Max pushed his body down over her knee. His back cracked slightly and he suddenly knew what she was going to do to him. He whimpered and tried to move, but it did no good. She looked him square in the eye and she slowly applied more force.

"Remember me," she said.

Her voice was full of anger, absolute hatred, and every hopeless, demented emotion known to mankind. She didn't sound human. She sounded like what Manticore had wanted her to be all along.

Finally, it came to an end. Thomas's spine snapped under the pressure and his body fell limp in her arms. She pushed his lifeless body away from her and got to her feet. She stared down at the broken form and wondered how to feel. She had completed the mission. She was supposed to feel free, but instead she felt like her stomach was filled with hot lead.

She went to the gun and picked it up. It was so useless. It was meaningless. She examined the metal and seriously thought of swallowing the barrel.

"Bravo, 452."

Max looked up with wide eyes.

Before her stood the one man she hated just as much as Thomas, if not more.

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "Lydecker."

Lydecker looked from Thomas's battered body to Max. "You've finally become what I've always wanted you to be."

"I'll never be that!" she barked.

Lydecker took a step toward her and she raised the gun. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a handgun of his own. He tossed it and it slid across the floor. He raised his hands and walked toward Max slowly. Her grip on the gun didn't loosen.

Lydecker grabbed the barrel of the gun and placed it over his heart.

"Go on, do it," he said. "I watched what you did to him. Finish it, 452."

Max pressed the gun into his chest, hard. Her jaw clenched.

"Do it!" Lydecker screamed.

Max threw the gun across the room and kicked Lydecker in the chest. He slid across the floor and was stopped by the wall.

"If I shoot you," Max said, almost calmly, "I become you."

"You are already what I wanted you to be," Lydecker told her.

"I will _never_ be that."

"You justify this killing because Thomas murdered your friend," Lydecker said. "Only trouble is, he didn't kill your friend. You have no justification. You are the killer I've always wanted you to be… Max."

"Where is he?" Max demanded. "Where is he?"

Lydecker jerked his head in the direction of the room that Thomas had tried to crawl into. "But it doesn't matter."

He pulled a cellphone from his jacket and pushed a button.

"The team will be here," Lydecker told her. "They'll kill him and you'll be back where you belong, doing what you were made to do."

Max kicked him and he slumped over, unconscious. She then rushed into the next room and found Logan bound and gagged on the floor. She ripped the gag from his mouth and untied him as quickly as possible.

"Max, I -"

"No time!" she said. "We have to go now."

She picked him up and ran for the front door. She kicked it open and rushed across the lawn and to the gate. She pushed the button to open it, then ran across the street and situated Logan on the bike.

"Hold on!" she screamed before peeling out.


	8. Escape & Evade the Pain

_There are moments when,  
When I know it and  
The world revolves around us,  
And we're keeping it,  
Keep it all going,  
This delicate balance,  
Vulnerable, all knowing  
_-- Straylight Run

**Chapter Eight** - _Escape & Evade the Pain_

Max kneeled in front of the fire. She crumpled up some newspaper and threw it onto the fire. The fire was burning strongly, so there was no need for the extra paper, but she needed a distraction. She stared into the flames, afraid to turn around. She and Logan hadn't spoken at all on the ride to the cabin and they hadn't broken the pattern yet. She knew that Logan had seen her kill Thomas. He hadn't said it, but she knew. It was her fear realized - finally he saw her for what she was. A soldier. A _murderer_. When she could work up the courage, she would tell him that she wouldn't bother him any longer. She'd leave and he wouldn't have to deal with avoiding looking her in the eye.

She slowly turned to face him.

He was staring down into a glass of water. His brow was furrowed and he looked exhausted.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, then rested her chin on her knee. She couldn't help but stare at him. It was like a dream. She had thought him dead, but here he was, safe and almost sound. Her life had made little to no sense only hours before, but now her world sat in front of her and she knew she'd have to deal with losing it all over again.

Logan set his water glass down on the table in front of him. He was quiet for a moment then turned to look at Max.

"Hey, you," he said quietly.

"Hey yourself," she replied, her voice cracked. She was on the verge of tears.

"We're in a spot here," he said. She only nodded. He continued, "I guess there's only two options here. One, you could go lay low in Canada and I can call Bling to come get me, or, two… we could get a good night's sleep and go back to the city in the morning. Your choice."

"You would want to go back into the city… with me?" she asked. She sounded tired and sad. "After what I did? After what you _saw_ me do?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Max, I'll admit I'll never be able to forget seeing you do what you did, but… I can understand it. If the roles were reversed… I can't know if I would have done exactly the same, but… you did it for me."

She looked away from him. She muttered, "I deserve Manticore."

"You don't," he said. He reached out to touch her face. She looked at him. "What you did and Manticore do not belong together. They're separate. It's… Max, this does not define who you are."

"It's not the first time I've killed someone," she admitted quietly. She went back to staring into the fire. "At Manticore, we all… Lydecker let him run, but we found him and he had this tattoo and we… we made Lydecker proud."

"You can't count what happened in Manticore as what you are now," Logan said. "You had no choice. It controlled you then. It doesn't control you now."

"I don't believe in temporary insanity," she bit. Her words were harsher than she would have liked. She rested her head on her knees and knew that Logan must have thought she was mad at him, but she was only hating herself.

She stood up and looked at Logan. She wanted to say something, to explain how she felt, or tell him that when she thought he was dead, she wanted to be dead too, but instead she just mumbled, "I need some fresh air."

She ignored his protest and left the cabin. She stood on the front porch, suddenly very aware of how bare her feet were. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked out into the dark forest. She could hear animals and insects rustling about and she focused on the noise, eager to forget the screaming voices in her own head.

Nothing made sense to her. She knew the only way to get closer to the truth was to go back inside and swap facts with Logan, but she could barely look at him. No matter what he said, she branded herself a killer and that's all she could feel like. No matter how many times he insisted it wasn't really her, she knew it was. She was inside her head, listening to the bile and hatred that ran through her mind as she killed Thomas. She knew who she was. She was a killer.

She was Lydecker's dream.

She wanted to choke at the thought, but couldn't shake it. Hadn't she done exactly what he had wanted all along? For that instant, she was the killing machine he had spent years trying to perfect. She was everything she hated.

She grew tired of the deserted forest and went back inside. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and she was glad for it - there was already too much going on inside her own head.

She carefully crept over to the couch and looked down at Logan. He was now stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed. She watched his chest move rhythmically up and down for a few minutes then went to the chair in the corner of the room and sat on the back, allowing her bare feet to rest on the cushion and absorb the heat from the fire. She watched him sleep and wanted to cry. This was exactly what she had wanted all along, but it was tainted. She had blood on her hands - granted, it wasn't innocent blood, but it was still blood all the same. Whenever someone wound up dead because of her work with Logan in the past, she was always able to write it off. When those guys shot each other up on that boat, she reasoned that she hadn't pulled the trigger. This time she couldn't write it off. She had killed Thomas with her own two hands.

She knew she shouldn't care. After all, Thomas Maconick was a card-carrying bastard. He cheated thousands of people and probably gave some bad guys the means to kill a whole bunch of people, but he was the sort of man she helped Logan toss in jail. What bothered her most was the fact that she truly was the child of Manticore, dealing out her own brand of avant-garde vigilante justice without concern. If she were still at Manticore, she'd receive a medal. On the outside world, all she received was her own self-hate.

Her brow furrowed as she watched Logan sleep. She hadn't asked what he had been through, but she could guess it was horrific. He was exhausted and deserved his sleep, so she wouldn't disturb him. She would simply watch him and be envious that he could escape the pain of the real world, even if it was just for a few hours.

For now she was restless and alone.


	9. No One Means As Much As You Do

**A/N:** Again, I can't take credit for the chapter title. It comes from a song by the band I Am The Avalanche.

_Broken wings  
Have a home tonight._  
-- Bleed The Dream

**Chapter Nine** - _No One Means As Much As You Do_

The first rays of sunshine struggled to break through the dirty and smudged windowpanes of the cabin. The only other light was the soft glow from the burning embers of the fire. Max could see perfectly in the dim light, but fear rose within her as the room began to brighten. She knew Logan would be awake soon and she knew they'd have to have a real talk. She was afraid that after he'd slept on it, he'd change his mind. All she could imagine was the word _killer_ tumbling from his perfect lips and stabbing her in the heart.

She watched as he opened his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly wanted to run from the cabin. She wanted to run through the woods and never look back. At the moment Logan scared her more than anything had ever scared her before.

"Morning," Logan said, his voice husky from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up on the couch.

Words caught in Max's throat and she could force none of them out. She felt like she was choking on all the right things to say. She clasped her hands together and hoped for the best.

"I think we need to talk," he said. "We didn't finish last night. I'm not happy where things are right now."

"You're not the only one," she said quietly. She slipped gracefully from the back of the chair to the cushion.

"You're not Manticore," he said. "You're not what Lydecker wanted you to be. You're not anything bad, Max. I bet you didn't weigh all the good you've done against this one bad thing. You've done more for other people than most people will _ever_ do."

Max scoffed.

"You had the anonymity you'd been looking for, but you gave it up," Logan continued. "You gave it up to help people. You fight against Manticore, against the broken world, and for what? Little to no thanks and the risk of getting caught by the people you hate most? Not many people would do that."

"I killed someone," she said quietly. "There's no going back from that."

"Out damned spot," Logan muttered. He sighed. "You didn't kill an innocent person. Thomas Maconick would have continued with his scam and he certainly would have killed someone if he was given the chance. Look, I'm all for the right thing and… Max, this isn't a guy to beat yourself up over. I know whatever I say won't be able to change your mind completely because you're stubborn, but don't forget I'm stubborn too, and I won't let you think that what you did was horrible. He was a bad guy. Honestly, the only thing I care to take from that night is the fact that we're both alive."

Her brow furrowed and she chewed her bottom lip. She mulled everything over in her mind. If Logan had lost faith in her, what did she have left? She had done it all for Logan - and she wasn't just thinking about the night before.

"What happened to you last night?" she asked suddenly.

Logan crossed his arms and his body tensed. "I woke up in the house. Thomas filled me in on the details. He found out about you and I… I was bait. He thought you might get away, so I was insurance. He assured me that either way I wad dead or as good as it. Everything was about getting you to Lydecker. But I think… I think it was more than that. The way that I heard them talking… it seemed like it was more Lydecker's show than it was Thomas's."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's no secret he knew you were in Seattle," Logan explained. "I think when Thomas told him about you… I think he warped the situation. I don't know how and I can't prove it, but…"

"He's Lydecker," she finished for him. She looked to the dying fire then back to Logan. He still looked worn. She asked quietly, tentatively, "What did they do to you last night?"

Logan's body tensed and he wrapped his arms around himself. "I got another dose of that drug, that's all. It was mostly mental… threats and things like that."

Logan lifted a hand and traced his jaw line as he spoke. His tone was grave when he spoke. "Lydecker had his gun and he just sort of put it against my face, under my chin. That didn't bother me, really. Just when he talked about Manticore, and you, and what… I think I would have preferred a beating, honestly."

Max remembered Lydecker's words to her and she shivered. _"You've finally become what I've always wanted you to be."_

"I could've killed him," Max said, an edge to her voice. "Lydecker was right there. I had a second chance to kill him… and I didn't. I want him dead, but… he's my link."

"I think he's more than just a link to your siblings," Logan said. "He's a link to your past - to what you don't want to be. He's everything you're not."

"What am I?" she asked.

She wasn't expecting an answer, but she got one.

"An angel," Logan answered quietly.

Max's smile was small, but it was a smile all the same. She got up from her seat and went to sit next to Logan on the couch. She didn't know what to say, so she pulled him into a hug and buried her head in his chest. She wanted to tell him so much, but instead she only cried. Sobs wracked her body and her only bit of peace in days came when Logan wrapped his arms around her.

"It's going to be fine," he promised quietly.

She wanted to believe him, but if Max knew anything at all, she knew the world was an uncertain and cold place - but it was warm in the cabin and, in Logan's arms, the world seemed so far away.

"Don't leave me," she managed through tears.

"Never," he whispered.

The real world was harsh and unforgiving, but right now the real world meant nothing to Max. All that mattered was that they were alive and no matter what, she would have Logan's shoulder to cry on and he would have her heart.

Her tears became less intense, but they were still steady. She repositioned her head so that it was resting on his shoulder and she gripped at his sweater so tightly it was in danger of ripping - but neither of them cared. They both needed each other, the rest of the world be damned.

After all, it would still be broken in the morning.

And they would be there to fix it - together.

Max raised her head to look in Logan's eyes. She said slowly, "There's something I have to tell you about your computers…"

_The world doesn't mean as much as you do  
No one means as much as you do_  
-- I Am The Avalanche

**The End.**

**Footnote:** Logan's line, "Out damned spot," is a line from/reference to Shakespeare's Macbeth. My senior year English teacher would love me right now.

**A/N:** Oh, I know, I'm awful. I ended it here because I don't see a reason to prolong it, really. I really didn't have any plans to make this a huge epic. I just wanted to do an experiment with emotions (hence why there's so little action) and such - was it a success? I feel like this is a good spot to end it. They're both on the way to emotional recovery and all, so to just keep going and going… blah! I'm not one to drag everything out and such. It's just not me. I'm happy with this. This one was more about emotion and description than anything else. If you have any questions or anything, feel free to PM me or whatever this crazy new FFN technology is! Right now I'm going to start work on another DA story… cause I'm so crazy! )


End file.
